“But Mom, I’m a boy I don’t want to grow up to be a proper young lady, I just want to be a boy,” whined Josh, “Why do I have to wear this dress? And why did you make it so short?”
It was Saturday morning and baseball practice was at 1:PM, but Josh had a problem to take care of first.
For the hundredth time he had been the one singled out for teasing the girls, and mom got the note from school. That was last Monday, and mom had been busy sewing and making Josh stand there in just his Jockey shorts while mom did all sorts of measuring. What bothered Josh most was the kind of measurements she took was different than when she made him shirts and pants.

The Pirates had already scored 3 runs to Kevin’s team 1 the Tigers, Kevin had not yet got his turn to play, and it was the 8th inning, he knew he would eventually get to play because it was League rules every one had a chance to play for a period of time.
Finally Coach Barns called for Kevin.
Kevin took his short stop position, the pitch went to the batter, and the batter hit a hot grounder right to Kevin, He put every thing he had into catching the ball, but it went right between his legs. The runner that was on 3rd base scored, and that made the score 4 to 1, favor the Pirates. Kevin recovered the ball and made a feeble throw to home plate.
The throw was way late, a few feet wide of the catcher, and several feet short.
Boo’s rang from the crowd, and few plays later the Tigers were at bat.
Kevin stepped to the plate determined to bring in the 2 runners on 2nd and third base. Strike one the ump yelled, strike 2 the ump yelled, and finally strike 3 rang across the field.
Kevin’s team members gave him a hard time and accused him of loosing the game for them, even though he had been responsible only for allowing the last run. He caught the brunt of his team mates wrath. Then the often time repeated taunts that he thru a ball like a girl.
On the drive home Kevin was near tears, and mom thought it best to let him sort things out for him self.

Prologue:
After failing badly at the Little League game yesterday Kevin was very down, he asked his Mother if he could have Girl Time all this weekend. Her answer was a wonderful shopping trip to the mall and Kevin’s first time out dressed as a girl. Except for the little incident at Long John Silvers it was a wonderful time.
The opportunity to wear a dress and have girl time all weekend made Kevin forget some commitments he had for the weekend, but now that he was committed to girl time for the entire weekend, there was no backing out, even a whole weekend at Grandma’s and his cousins would be there too. There was mixed feelings about him wearing dresses with his Aunt and his cousins, especially that fat little asshole his cousin David, he was 16. He was an obnoxious bragging pudgy asshole as far as Kevin was concerned. He teased Kevin without mercy about him wearing dresses and Aunt Helen would do nothing about it. Even Mom couldn’t make him stop. David’s sister Sara was a pain too, she was 14 and was would sometimes tease him too. Kevin really didn’t like Sara very much, she was tomboy and didn’t like things girls usually like, like girly clothes, especially dresses, she rarely wore a dress, only when she had too. She was so into sports and hardly ever acted like a girl. Kevin thought that was such a waste, here she was a real girl and wanted to be boy. It seemed like she always wore boy’s jeans, Kevin hated that.

Mom parked the van and Kevin noticed Aunt Helen’s van was not there so they were the first to arrive. Each grabbed a suit case and headed into the house. Grandma and Aunt Mandy gave Mom a great big hug, then they stared at Kevin in a teasing way, Aunt Mandy said what a lovely girl you are Karen, you are just adorable, come her let me give you a big hug. Grandma also gave out some bear hugs, Kevin could never understand how such a frail old lady could give such breathtaking hugs, but he received his in his normal accepting way.
When the greetings were all over Mom and Kevin unpacked the van, Kevin was still amazed at how much baggage Mom had brought, finally he just had to ask again why so much baggage? Mom said, well honey first of all were going to be here two days. So we both need clothes for the two days, then we all have to dress for the party and that consists of a whole wardrobe for both of us, then of course my make up is there to, plus the gifts for Aunt Mandy, so that’s why so much stuff. That made sense to Kevin so he just started lugging it all up stairs, he put Mom’s in Grandma’s spare room, what used to be Aunt Helen’s room when she lived at home. His room was what used to be Mom’s room. This gave Kevin an extra thrill to be staying in his Mom’s room. Much of the decor was still intact, but not nearly as girly as he would have pictured in his mind, nor was Aunt Helen’s room very girly, they were both rather plain. The only thing that remained was a very old doll house that used to be Mom’s Grandma’s that she given to her grand daughters a long time ago. Kevin always played with that doll house and some dolls his Grandma had collected. Today he and Jillian would no doubt be playing with the doll house and the dolls again.
Kevin hoped Jillian would bring some of her Barbie’s, as they both loved to play with the Barbie’s.

For the sixth or seventh time Paul’s courage failed him at the doorway of the shop. Frustrated and close to tears at his cowardice he went into the sandwich bar across the street. Under his polo-necked jersey, trousers, shoes, socks and leather gloves he felt his tight latex suit slide wetly over his skin and he was particularly aware of the wetness in the fitted gloves. He sat up straight on the stool acutely conscious of the harshly boned rubber corset he had on with the equally rigid wide saddle strap that doubled as a cache-sex and the knickers.
He glanced at the clock and now he would have to pluck up courage soon. He almost dropped his cup when a hand squeezed his arm and, as he turned, his mouth opened and he blushed furiously at the woman on the adjacent stool who was looking at him quizzically. He could feel beads of perspiration start as he recognised her: the woman he had seen through the window of the shop immaculate in boots, a black leather skirt and matching tunic.

It may perhaps be some consolation to Billy – remembering his own days of ruffled repentance when forced to wear his step-sister’s short frocks and frilly knickers – to know that here in London there is at least one young man of 18 who is still regularly made to submit to a similarly humiliating ordeal. Indeed, my delightful and very much ashamed looking “petticoat penitent” is standing in front of me as I write this.

"I've started him on female hormones" she betrayed to his workcolleague.

I was quite amazed at the number of cases of men in female clothes mentioned, for I had quite thought that the transformation of my own husband, Phillip, into an attractive girl, Phyllis, was a solitary instance. Perhaps a few details about our life will interest your readers and may even lead to some others writing about theirs.
I had originally. been attracted towards Phil because of his decidedly feminine characteristics, and I had often wondered what sort of girl he would make if dressed and made up. The first time I suggested he should let me dress him up he just laughed at me and refused.

Some weeks ago Jimmy agreed to be my slave for the week. I was to be absolute master and he was to do my every bidding. Fortunately we are about the same size and as Jimmy is on the slender side some of my clothes fitted him. We did purchase two items – platform shoes with the highest heels obtainable (1 inch platform, 5 1/2 inch heels) and a heavily boned, back lacing corset. I remodeled the corset by taking in the waist about four inches to give it a more wasp-waist effect.
For the whole week he was dressed as a woman. He had to wear the corset both day and night, the high heeled shoes, make-up and earrings from morning to night, and feminine clothes always. He did all the cooking, cleaned up the apartment, did the dishes, and waited on me hand and foot. I ruled our home.

Several stories recall a most unpleasant situation in which I found myself at the age of sixteen. At the time, I was living with an aunt, my father and mother were on an extended tour abroad. Next door there lived three sisters, the youngest, a girl of my own age, with whom I spent many pleasant hours.
One afternoon we got into an argument, which became quite heated, and in a fit of anger , I gave her a shove. She tripped and fell to the ground, her skirts flying up to expose lace frilled underclothes. Somehow the incident struck me as ludicrous, and I started to laugh. She rose to her feet, her face crimson with embarrassment, tears flowing down her cheeks, and ran into the house, calling me “nasty and horrid”. Almost immediately, her two sisters came out into the yard and started upbraiding me for being a nasty person, and threatening to tell my aunt about it. Unfortunately for me, I choose to be impertinent.

I come to the conclusion that men are just as fond of finery and pretty things as women. The barrage of advertising that tells women constantly how to be beautiful finds a great number of victims among men too, it seems to me. My own husband is sample case of this theory.

In the a letter from “Modern Mother” telling how she dressed her son in little girl’s clothes to ensure his good behavior. I should like to bring to your notice the fact that in Britain this custom is very common, at least if letters published in Reveille are to be believed.
The series of letters started by a mother who had recently been widowed asking for help in controlling an unruly son of 14 on whom corporal punishment had no effect.

My mother practiced “Petticoat Punishment” on me as a disciplinary measure. On my return from school, she would dress me in elaborately frilled girl’s clothes for various periods – an afternoon or several afternoons, depending on the extent of my unruliness, I was never “Shown-off” to guests, only my Mother and the family maid knowing how I was being punished.

I wonder if it has ever occurred to you that not all the members of your loyal “bloomer brigade” are women. With me, it’s just a hobby as ordinary as collecting stamps. And when I dress like this for pleasure, I wear bloomers and enjoy them more than any other part of the costume.

Shopping for Joanie Mom’s call from down stairs brought him back into reality, “Joanie, honey lets get ready. The mall will be opening soon and we have lots to do.” Then with hopes high, he asked, “What am I wearing?” He crossed his fingers as he hoped and prayed for all he was worth she would say jeans and T-shirt.
When the words came back from Mom, “your new jeans and a T-shirt of course.” He was delighted. “Put your dress and panties in the wash basket.” Joey’s reaction was an explosion as he struggled to get the zipper down the back of the dress. But no way could he reach that darn zipper so he ran downstairs and asked Mom, “I need you to get the zipper back down.”
“Okay Honey turn around so I can reach it,” Mom said. Joey complied. Mom laughed at him and Joey sort of giggled back, then Mom said, “Honey that will become part of your girl training. How to get in and out of all kind of dresses.”

Joey Faces his Accuser “We have to return Susan’s things Joey and of course we can’t give them back to her unwashed after they have been worn, now can we?” Mom asked.
Joey didn’t think the question needed answering, so he remained silent. But Mom had other thoughts. Answer me Joey! Can we give Susan her dress and panties back unwashed after you have worn them?” “No Mom we can’t do that, it just wouldn’t be right,” he said. “Well now that we’re on the subject of returning the dress and panties, she didn’t give them to me, did she Joey?” “No,” was his reply.
“That’s right, she gave them to you and I didn’t wear them, did I? Now again, but who did wear the dress and panties?” “I did,” was Joey’s reply, “So who do you think should return them?” “Me I guess, I should take them back.”
“That’s right Joey, you will take them back. But we have a little problem don’t we?” “What’s that?” Joey said? “The panties, you ripped them, what about the panties? You tore them, what do you plan to do about that?” “I-I--- don’t know what to do about that.”

Joey’s new life When both were finished eating, Joey again reminded her of the sit down talk. He was very anxious to get this part over with. Mom said, “After we get the kitchen cleaned up.” There was more waiting and it was driving Joey nuts. Mom knew the waiting was getting to him and she used it to her advantage. Joey cleared the table and Mom started washing the dishes. Joey dried them as she washed. It took several reminders from Mom to be careful about getting his pretty new dress wet or dirty. “It can happen even with an apron on,” she kept talking about the dress like it was his very own dress. Joey didn’t know how to take that so he just put it in the back of his mind and continued working hoping it would all soon stop.
Finally the time came, and Mom said, “Okay Joey time for our talk.” Mom instructed Joey to sit in the big chair and she took a seat on the couch directly across from Joey. Joey plopped himself in the chair again his rear reminded him to sit more gently. His legs spread wide apart Mom said,
“No! No! No! Not that way. Well I see its time for another sitting lesson young lady.” “Now what!” Joey said out loud annoyed. “I’ll tell you what young lady!”

Feminine Instincts After recovering from the shock of Angie’s sudden appearance and running inside they just stared at each other. Then Mom noticed the bundle of clothes she had but it took a minute or two for Mom to realize they were boy’s clothes.
At first she was speechless but finally recovering from the shock of the Moment her maternal instincts kicked in and the facts came to mind.
Here was her daughter running home flinging the door open, with a bundle of boy clothes in her arms. As she looked harder at the clothes, she saw a pair of boy’s Jockey shorts right on top of the pile in plain sight! “Wha... wha... wha .., what is going on here?” She demanded, “Angie! What in the world are you doing with all those clothes? That’s boy’s underwear too! What on earth is going on here?” Angie remained silent and after a short pause Mom demanded, “I want an explanation right now. Right this minute! Now young lady, explain just what’s going on here.”
Angie couldn’t talk while Mom was really fired up and more irate. “I have to have an answer and it had better be quick. It had better be good, very good indeed.” Now it was time for Angie’s feminine survival instincts to kick in, and kick in they did. Her first thought was, ‘I’ve got to get out of this mess!’ It was feminine survival in its highest form and Angie was a fast thinker. Straight away the answer came clear and she was comfortable with it. In this case what could be better than the truth!

When the best laid plan fails. And so Joey sat in his room staring out the window at the recently constructed tree house that his Dad had so expertly built just for him. Dad was right when he said all boys need a place to call their very own. The tree house was just that. His very own place, so everybody that wanted to visit his secret sanctuary had to ask his permission to climb up the ladder and enter this privileged place.
It wasn’t exactly a tree house because it wasn’t built in a tree. It sat on four thick poles and was a ten-foot square structure with a triangular roof and a window on each side. A ladder provided access to the tree house through the hole in the floor.
It quickly became the perfect place to engage in his other favorite pastime. His indulgence and fascination with panties. Over the past year he had managed to collect three pairs of panties by various means. Up to now they’d been kept in his room and were well hidden. Two pairs were hidden in his tree house and his third least favorite pair was kept in their hiding place in his room for emergencies. Today was one of those emergency days.

Ten year old Joey finds out first hand what its like to wear dresses and panties, and how it feels to try to keep people from seeing his panties.

The way it started Ten year old Joey pouted furiously in his room on the second day of a three day grounding since his Sunday School teacher Mrs. Fairbanks, caught him looking up Nancy Parker’s and Alice Mecca’s dresses. These were the two girls that sat directly across from him.
Then of course Joan Timberly hadn’t helped as she also gave him a view of her yellow panties. Joey’s thoughts began to drift to the reason why he was in this predicament.
It just didn’t make any sense. Girls just didn’t make any sense at all! They wore pretty dresses, with all that fancy girl stuff on them, lace and frills and all. Just so boys could look at them and tell them how pretty they looked. They had all that girl stuff on their panties too but if anyone got caught looking at their panties, they got into trouble. Big trouble.
If girls didn’t want anybody looking at their panties then how come they made them with so much pretty girl stuff on them? Why did they make their panties as pretty as their dresses? It just didn’t make any sense to Joey.

Shopping for Joanie Mom’s call from down stairs brought him back into reality, “Joanie, honey lets get ready. The mall will be opening soon and we have lots to do.” Then with hopes high, he asked, “What am I wearing?” He crossed his fingers as he hoped and prayed for all he was worth she would say jeans and T-shirt.
When the words came back from Mom, “your new jeans and a T-shirt of course.” He was delighted. “Put your dress and panties in the wash basket.” Joey’s reaction was an explosion as he struggled to get the zipper down the back of the dress. But no way could he reach that darn zipper so he ran downstairs and asked Mom, “I need you to get the zipper back down.”
“Okay Honey turn around so I can reach it,” Mom said. Joey complied. Mom laughed at him and Joey sort of giggled back, then Mom said, “Honey that will become part of your girl training. How to get in and out of all kind of dresses.”

Joey Faces his Accuser “We have to return Susan’s things Joey and of course we can’t give them back to her unwashed after they have been worn, now can we?” Mom asked.
Joey didn’t think the question needed answering, so he remained silent. But Mom had other thoughts. Answer me Joey! Can we give Susan her dress and panties back unwashed after you have worn them?” “No Mom we can’t do that, it just wouldn’t be right,” he said. “Well now that we’re on the subject of returning the dress and panties, she didn’t give them to me, did she Joey?” “No,” was his reply.
“That’s right, she gave them to you and I didn’t wear them, did I? Now again, but who did wear the dress and panties?” “I did,” was Joey’s reply, “So who do you think should return them?” “Me I guess, I should take them back.”

Joey’s new life When both were finished eating, Joey again reminded her of the sit down talk. He was very anxious to get this part over with. Mom said, “After we get the kitchen cleaned up.” There was more waiting and it was driving Joey nuts. Mom knew the waiting was getting to him and she used it to her advantage. Joey cleared the table and Mom started washing the dishes. Joey dried them as she washed. It took several reminders from Mom to be careful about getting his pretty new dress wet or dirty. “It can happen even with an apron on,” she kept talking about the dress like it was his very own dress. Joey didn’t know how to take that so he just put it in the back of his mind and continued working hoping it would all soon stop.
Finally the time came, and Mom said, “Okay Joey time for our talk.” Mom instructed Joey to sit in the big chair and she took a seat on the couch directly across from Joey. Joey plopped himself in the chair again his rear reminded him to sit more gently. His legs spread wide apart Mom said,
“No! No! No! Not that way. Well I see its time for another sitting lesson young lady.” “Now what!” Joey said out loud annoyed. “I’ll tell you what young lady!”

Joey’s humiliation Meanwhile back in the tree house Joey was in a state of pure panic. He stood facing the back of his house, looking out the tree house window at the kitchen beneath him. He didn’t even notice that the wind had picked up a little. The breeze that came up through the hole in the floor gently swirled up his legs and lifted the hem of his dress ever so slightly. At any other time this would have been an exciting feeling to a boy in his first dress. But Joey was in no position to enjoy such a luxury now. He struggled with himself to think straight. He had to get into the house without being discovered and his knees went weak when the thought flashed through his mind that his Mom would catch him in these clothes. She would probably be in the kitchen fixing supper and he was praying that she wouldn’t be there when he streaked towards the house wearing a dress and panties.
He forced himself to calm down, think hard and decide quickly. Maybe if he just ran for the house in the panties without the dress, he wouldn’t attract much attention. But the darn panties were pink and would show. Then he thought of the ones in his stash right there in the tree house. ‘The white ones that would be better than Angie’s sister’s,’ he thought. He tried to slip the dress over his head but it wouldn’t budge, then he remembered the zipper.

Feminine Instincts After recovering from the shock of Angie’s sudden appearance and running inside they just stared at each other. Then Mom noticed the bundle of clothes she had but it took a minute or two for Mom to realize they were boy’s clothes.
At first she was speechless but finally recovering from the shock of the Moment her maternal instincts kicked in and the facts came to mind.
Here was her daughter running home flinging the door open, with a bundle of boy clothes in her arms. As she looked harder at the clothes, she saw a pair of boy’s Jockey shorts right on top of the pile in plain sight! “Wha... wha... wha .., what is going on here?” She demanded, “Angie! What in the world are you doing with all those clothes? That’s boy’s underwear too! What on earth is going on here?” Angie remained silent and after a short pause Mom demanded, “I want an explanation right now. Right this minute! Now young lady, explain just what’s going on here.”
Angie couldn’t talk while Mom was really fired up and more irate. “I have to have an answer and it had better be quick. It had better be good, very good indeed.” Now it was time for Angie’s feminine survival instincts to kick in, and kick in they did. Her first thought was, ‘I’ve got to get out of this mess!’ It was feminine survival in its highest form and Angie was a fast thinker. Straight away the answer came clear and she was comfortable with it. In this case what could be better than the truth!

When the best laid plan fails. And so Joey sat in his room staring out the window at the recently constructed tree house that his Dad had so expertly built just for him. Dad was right when he said all boys need a place to call their very own. The tree house was just that. His very own place, so everybody that wanted to visit his secret sanctuary had to ask his permission to climb up the ladder and enter this privileged place.
It wasn’t exactly a tree house because it wasn’t built in a tree. It sat on four thick poles and was a ten-foot square structure with a triangular roof and a window on each side. A ladder provided access to the tree house through the hole in the floor.

Ten year old Joey finds out first hand what its like to wear dresses and panties, and how it feels to try to keep people from seeing his panties.

The way it started Ten year old Joey pouted furiously in his room on the second day of a three day grounding since his Sunday School teacher Mrs. Fairbanks, caught him looking up Nancy Parker’s and Alice Mecca’s dresses. These were the two girls that sat directly across from him.
Then of course Joan Timberly hadn’t helped as she also gave him a view of her yellow panties. Joey’s thoughts began to drift to the reason why he was in this predicament.
It just didn’t make any sense. Girls just didn’t make any sense at all! They wore pretty dresses, with all that fancy girl stuff on them, lace and frills and all. Just so boys could look at them and tell them how pretty they looked. They had all that girl stuff on their panties too but if anyone got caught looking at their panties, they got into trouble. Big trouble.
If girls didn’t want anybody looking at their panties then how come they made them with so much pretty girl stuff on them? Why did they make their panties as pretty as their dresses? It just didn’t make any sense to Joey.

It is amazing how widespread is the belief that a tightly laced old style wasp-waist corset is painful to the wearer and detrimental to health. Yet, is this belief justified? I believe an ounce of experience weighs more than a pound of surmise based on prejudice. The proof of the pudding is in the eating thereof.
When about thirteen, I came under the tutelage of an aunt, a confirmed tight lacer, whose two daughters were brought up the same way and who at sixteen and eighteen had delightfully slender waists as the result of rigorous tight lacing. To cure my propensity to stooping and to improve my posture, my aunt put me into a stiffly boned, small-waisted corset, which she laced tightly, making me wear it beneath my boy’s clothes.

Margaret was really pleased with herself on this fine spring day, Maundy Thursday of 1890, at the beginning of that carefree, peaceful period that would later be known as “The Gay Nineties”. She was in high spirits and felt in top form. She viewed herself in the full length mirror. Even her worst enemy would have to concede that she was beautiful, not only because with her 22 years she had an excellent figure accentuated by a very tight corset, she also had taken great pains to dress herself in the most fashionable and elegant way. From the feather crowned hat with its delicate lace edged veil giving her face a mysterious touch to the small feet shod in a pair of dainty high heeled boots laced to just below the calves with just over four inch heels she looked as if she just had stepped from a Paris fashion plate.

Suddenly the carriage stopped and Aunt Margaret asked
him to help her down, which he hastened to do, swearing at himself that
he was so clumsy not to have thought of it himself. They entered a
small store, at least it appeared that way from the outside. Inside it
opened to a large salon, equipped with beautiful antique furniture and a
wealth of oriental carpets, lighted by shaded gas jets everywhere. One
wall was almost entirely covered with the finest crystal mirrors, and
more mirrors in golden stucco frames mounted on little wheels were
around everywhere. Two or three groups of deeply upholstered armchairs
were arranged around marble-topped tables covered with fashion plates
and magazines.

Suzanne took him up the curved staircase leading from the entrance hall to the private apartments.
“These
will be your rooms,” she explained. He looked around and was a little
disturbed. He had expected his room to be an adequate place for him to
study. A bed, a closet, a few chairs and a desk for his work were all he
had expected and desired. But here was a suite fit for a queen yes,
definitely not for a king, for the whole atmosphere radiated femininity.
“Madame
kindly asks you to put up with these rooms. This was her suite
formerly, but after the death of her husband she has redecorated and
moved into the master suite. Unfortunately, there was no time to
redecorate this part of the house before you came. And Madame thought,
maybe you like it this way and anyhow, you can now choose for yourself
what you want.”

It took them about 15 minutes to get to the opera
house, which was on the upper part of “Unter den Linden”, close to the
city palace of the Kaiser, which Aunt Margaret pointed out to him. He
found the palace very impressive, but Aunt Margaret laughed and said “I
would not want to live there. They don’t even have any bathtubs.”
Just
before they halted beside the opera house, Aunt Margaret dabbed a
little perfume on his shoulders and behind his ears. It was a fresh,
flowery smell, quite different from Aunt Margaret’s own perfume, which
was heavier, sweet and seductive. When they finally stopped in a long
row of other carriages, Aunt Margaret urged him to hurry.
“Let’s go directly to my box, we are just in time. We shall meet our friends there.”

When he awoke, it took him some
time to get oriented. Where was he? Whose bed was he in? Slowly the
happenings of last night came back to him. Was it all true? Or were
there things he had just dreamed? And which things were real and which
not? He remembered having champagne was it all a crazy, drunken dream?
He
looked around, saw the bell-rope close to his bed and decided to try
it. Seconds later Suzanne entered greeting him cheerfully.
“I was just coming to wake you up. Madame wants you to join her for breakfast in half an hour, so we must hurry.”
She pulled back the satin, down filled blanket. Too late, he tried to hold on to it to keep himself covered.
“Come
on, don’t be bashful, I’ve seen you completely naked yesterday, so
there is no reason to hide anything today. Come on, get up now.”

After a refreshing rest, Suzanne
reappeared and dressed him in a delicate pink afternoon frock, dripping
with lace all over. Of course he had to wear a corset again, and this
time Suzanne had to close the gap entirely because the frock had an even
tighter waist than the others. It had short sleeves, and Suzanne put
his hands and arms in tight pink gloves that reached over his elbows.
His feet were shod in pink boots with very high heels. After having made
up his face just a little, she sent him down to take tea with Aunt
Margaret.
Tea had been served in a large salon and Aunt Margaret
sat at a little table, reading a newspaper. He sat down next to her.
When she let down her paper, he addressed her.
“Aunt Margaret, may I ask you a question?”
“Certainly Dear, go ahead.”

When Jean-Marie (or Gloria, as he now always was
called by his aunt and his maid Suzanne since they had tricked him into
wearing girl’s clothes) woke up after a refreshing sleep, he let the
last two days pass in review: How he had come to Berlin to meet his aunt
and guardian and how she had made him wear girl’s clothes and cunningly
but gently pushed him into subjection. He tried to analyze his feelings
about what had happened to him. He knew of course it was utterly wrong
for a boy to be dressed as a girl. Boys just did not do this period.
Everything he had learned during the seventeen years of his upbringing
said it was wrong, terribly wrong and that he had to fight it and oppose
it.

When he entered Margaret’s
sitting-room, it was precisely 8:15. He closed the door behind him and
waited there until she looked up.
“Good morning, Madame,” he greeted her with a graceful curtsey.
“Good morning, Gloria, come and join me for breakfast.”
She looked him in the face. “Have you been crying? Tell me the reason.”
He truthfully related the whole incident to her.
“Now
that was stupid of you, not to obey Mademoiselle in the first place,
wasn’t it? Mademoiselle had every right to do what she did. You see,
while you are living here as a girl, you have to be obedient and
submissive as is befitting a young girl. I shall not tolerate any
insolence or willfulness on your part. This kind of behavior, often
found in young men, is not acceptable even in them, much less in a girl.
I hope that you will soon adapt your demeanor to the ways expected by
society as the proper behavior of a young lady. It will make things
easier for all of us, but mostly for you, though. I hope you agree with
me. Don’t you?”

The afternoon tea proved to be rather
dull. There were only the women present and apart from the four
visitors from Berlin and their hostess, there were only some neighbors,
and their conversation circled around their houses, kids and gardens.
Jean-Marie was glad when they all left and they retired to get dressed
for dinner.
Suzanne selected a very elegant dinner dress for him.
It left him very little room to move from its high, tight collar to the
narrow skirt, which only permitted small, mincing steps. When he
complained about the restrictions, Suzanne just told him he would mostly
be sitting at the table.
“This is not a ball-gown to dance in, and it allows you enough room to walk to and from the table.”
She took great care with his hairdo and his makeup.

Unnoticed by Jean-Marie, his three bedfellows left him
and went to their own rooms early in the morning. When he awoke to the
sound of the curtains being drawn back, he found himself in bed alone.
When he looked at the clock, it was 11:30 and he saw that Suzanne was
already dressed, and in an unusually cheery mood. She brought him a cup
of coffee.
“We skipped the breakfast this morning. Lunch is being
served in an hour, and I need that much time to make you look in any way
presentable.”
She undertook her task with her usual efficiency,
and in an hour he was bathed, corseted, dressed, coiffed, and made up,
and again he looked like an elegant young lady.
Lunch was
uneventful and so was a stroll through the park, afterwards. Everybody
was cheerful and nice to him. Coco could not hold back a few remarks
cryptic to all others alluding to the night before, which made him
blush.

Life in Margaret’s household had come
to a sort of normalcy. Gloria was continually being trained to be a
girl. There were the lessons in ladylike deportment, eliminating all
traces of the male in behavior, gestures and other manners of conscious
or unconscious expressions. There was intensive voice training and much
more. She was kept busy learning to be a girl most of her waking hours.
And if nothing special was requested of her at any time, she was tied up
and often gagged.

When they arrived, they
went to see the doctors first. Jean-Marie, now Mary-Jane, got a thorough
check-up and was declared fit for the treatment. The daily dosages of
the drugs he was to take would be sent out to Long Island by special
courier every day.
“We hope to be able to isolate the active
substances in our extract within the next year or so and then be able to
transfer it into a form that can be taken as pills,” one of the doctors
said to Mary-Jane, “right now we are still in an experimental state. We
know that it works, we do not yet know why and exactly what does the
work. With you and a few others like you, we are doing our first tests
with human beings. We therefore want you to keep a diary and take notes
on every change you feel in your body or any extraordinary occurrences,
how you feel generally, and particularly your sexual feelings.”

For Gloria it was indeed like coming home
when they entered the driveway to the magnificent Villa, where her
conversion into a girl had started. She was shown to his old suite of
rooms by Aunt Margaret. Nothing had changed here.
“I promised
you,” Aunt Margaret began when they had settled down in the comfortable
easy-chairs, “if the circumstances allowed it, you could return to being
a man. Now, I was able to clear everything, get you exempted from
military service, and all charges against you were dropped.”

Little Tim snuggled down under the bed clothes trying to drown out the sound of laughter drifting up from below. He didn‘t object to the rest of the family having fun of course, but how much he‘d have loved to have stayed up late - especially tonight of all nights. Even his best efforts with the eiderdown were unable to stifle the the penetrating voices and giggles of his two elder sisters.
Still, tomorrow was Christmas day, always a terrific time. There‘d be lots of fun and excitement, and of course loads of presents for him to open. In fact he‘d already examined the brightly colored parcels under the tree in the lounge, but despite feeling them, shaking them and performing all the external analysis possible, he was still none-the-wiser to their secret contents.
He listened intently and then, when he was sure he couldn‘t be overheard, whispered the same prayer that he offered up every night. Being only nine, he wasn‘t entirely sure how such things operated, but felt confident that the Almightily would one day hear his plea, it was simply a matter of being persistent.

Margaret was really pleased with herself on this fine spring day, Maundy Thursday of 1890, at the beginning of that carefree, peaceful period that would later be known as "The Gay Nineties". She was in high spirits and felt in top form. She viewed herself in the full length mirror. Even her worst enemy would have to concede that she was beautiful, not only because with her 22 years she had an excellent figure accentuated by a very tight corset, she also had taken great pains to dress herself in the most fashionable and elegant way. From the feather crowned hat with its delicate lace edged veil giving her face a mysterious touch to the small feet shod in a pair of dainty high heeled boots laced to just below the calves with just over four inch heels she looked as if she just had stepped from a Paris fashion plate.

Very few of us really know what goes on in the closets and bedrooms of our TV and TS sisters. Its a rare of occasion when that door opens and we are allowed a look into the innermost Iives of the crossdresser. Fortunately, one special person has allowed the FEMALE IMPERSONATOR photographer to join her in a session of crossdressing.

Stefanie, our model, was a bit shy at first, but who of us would not be when put in front of a camera. As you can see from the pictures, here, she took to modeling like a duck takes to water. Before too long, Stefanie won the heart of our photographer, and its only a matter of time before she wins the hearts of all of us.

As a pre-operative transexual, Stef is very busy saving her money for that all-important surgery, but she did take the time out to grace our pages. There is no doubt in our minds that Stef will make a beautiful and charming woman. Even though she is not a 100% female, she already has much of the grace and charm of a real girl.

Plug Tails - this very feminine thing attached to his butt was a source of great amusement to any spectator.

Chapter 1

Mistress Lara took special pleasure in making her sissy maids keep butt plugs installed for long periods of time. She was well aware of the discomfort these wonderful simple devices caused her pansy little sissy maids. She also knew the humiliation of having to wear such a thing up their little butts was a source she could use when humiliating one of these pathetic creatures in front of her guests.

One of her past inventions was the ball end plug. It had a small ball built on the end of the plug. This was a favorite thing she used when one of her maids got a little lazy or slow in the performance of his duties. If the pathetic thing needed rest, she certainly could oblige. Installing a six inch length model ball plug up his precious rear she would then make him sit on a wooden stool, then strap him down tight making the ball end of the plug put a hard pressure up his sissy butt. It wasn't long before the sissy would beg to be released from his ordeal and would promise faithfully to perform faster and more efficiently.

Ten year old Joey finds out first hand what its like to wear dresses and panties, and how it feels to try to keep people from seeing his panties.

Chapter 1:

The way it started Ten year old Joey pouted furiously in his room on the second day of a three day grounding since his Sunday School teacher Mrs. Fairbanks, caught him looking up Nancy Parker's and Alice Mecca's dresses. These were the two girls that sat directly across from him.

Then of course Joan Timberly hadn't helped as she also gave him a view of her yellow panties. Joey's thoughts began to drift to the reason why he was in this predicament.

The Pirates had already scored 3 runs to Kevin's team 1 the Tigers, Kevin had not yet got his turn to play, and it was the 8th inning, he knew he would eventually get to play because it was League rules every one had a chance to play for a period of time.

Finally Coach Barns called for Kevin.

Kevin took his short stop position, the pitch went to the batter, and the batter hit a hot grounder right to Kevin, He put every thing he had into catching the ball, but it went right between his legs. The runner that was on 3rd base scored, and that made the score 4 to 1, favor the Pirates. Kevin recovered the ball and made a feeble throw to home plate.

The throw was way late, a few feet wide of the catcher, and several feet short.

Boo's rang from the crowd, and few plays later the Tigers were at bat.

Kevin stepped to the plate determined to bring in the 2 runners on 2nd and third base. Strike one the ump yelled, strike 2 the ump yelled, and finally strike 3 rang across the field.

Kevin's team members gave him a hard time and accused him of loosing the game for them, even though he had been responsible only for allowing the last run. He caught the brunt of his team mates wrath. Then the often time repeated taunts that he thru a ball like a girl.

On the drive home Kevin was near tears, and mom thought it best to let him sort things out for him self.

Kevin felt deep inside even at the age of 11 he felt very deeply he was a failure as a boy. He just could not do the things well that most boys did, like play baseball for instance.

It seemed so very complicated how mom had under very strict rules let him wear girls clothes, when he was in a dress he felt so much more comfortable and a peace came over him, that he felt at no other time.

Kevin loved his wardrobe of dresses, slips, panties, and night wear.

Mom seemed to encourage him in these girl activities, and never pushed or forced him, even grandma and aunt Mandy had seen him in dresses. Then the day came when Mrs. Tanner had given him his piano lesson in a dress.

As they drove home mom wanted to know if he wanted a root beer float, a very definite favorite of his, but he was so down he refused the offer.

Finally as they pulled into the driveway Kevin asked mom, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," mom said, "Ask away."

"Mom? Could I have girl time all this weekend?"

Mom asked back, "Do you mean you want to be Karen for the weekend?"

"Yes Mom, that's what I mean for the whole weekend!"

"Well honey, if that's what you want it's fine with me."

Kevin was feeling better already.

Now finally home it was time to put the miserable ball game behind him, and start being Karen. Kevin had learned the exquisite feeling of a bubble bath it had had become a preliminary necessity to his girl time. Mom had introduced him to this very girlish thing two years ago, and now before every girl time he took a long luxurious bubble bath.

Mom had drawn the bath for him and he stepped into the tub and relaxed, Oh it felt so good, the preliminary shower had washed off the dirt and grime of the ball field. And now the hot water and bubbles would soak into his body and weird as it sounded to him, the feeling made him feel so girlish.

As he leaned back and relaxed he wondered what dress mom would layout for him, he liked it this way, although he could choose his own dress if he wanted to, but it was more fun when mom chose his dress. It was a surprise when he walked in to his room and saw the dress lying on the bed. Often times he would let out a little girlish squeal of delight when he saw what he would be wearing.